A Sword of Ice: Fae Elementals, #2

By Aleera Anaya Ceres

The Empire of Illyk was never safe…

…especially not for Iona Wylde.

Living in the corrupt city of Porir, working for meager earnings at the run-down zoo, and paying a monthly tithe to the humans? It was supposed to keep the reality of what she was hidden. A Fae. An Elemental.

The last of her kind.

But the day the emperor's soldiers invade her home is the day her careful life falls apart. Prepared to flee to safety, Iona never expects to encounter the Resistance, and the fire dancer in their midst.

To preserve the Fae race and stop the emperor from destroying them completely, they'll need Iona. And to survive, she'll need them too.

On their search for the truth, they're lead across Illyk and to The West Isles, the lands of mercenaries and pirates. There, secrets of the empire will begin to unravel. Bonds will be formed. Betrayals will tear the Resistance apart, making Iona question everything she ever knew.

And it just might spark a war for freedom that will change her fate forever.

Fans of Sarah J. Maas, Holly Black, and Laura Thalassa will love this action packed new series! Fae Elementals is a High Fantasy series intended for people 18 and older due to M/F romance as well as sexual and dark themes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aleera Anaya Ceres
• Release date: Dec 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215818657

Book preview

A Sword of Ice

Aleera Anaya Ceres

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, people or places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Sword of Ice text Copyright © 2020 by Aleera Anaya Ceres

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

Cover design and typography image by: Storywrappers

Edited by: Lisa Nieves-Taylor

Map design done in: Wonderdraft

Contents

Dedication

Fae Elementals Glossary and Pronunciation Guide

Map of Illyk

Trigger and Content Warnings

The Fall of the Fae

Dirty Fae Secret

Porir City Zoo

A Promise in an Alleyway

Scars and Stars

Something Cold and...Familiar

The WANTED of Illyk

Iron Bracelets

The Good, the Bad, and Mana

George Apidae

A Web of Madness

The Final Plan

A Clash of Ice and Fire

Shula Azzarh

The March to Porir

Duty to the Fae

Betrayals and Disobedience

Useful to the Fae

A Taste of Blood

Cut From the Same Cloth

The Strength of Ice

Mates

The Bonds of Mana

The New Resistance

Lovebirds

An Empty Cage

Thieving Ultimatum

A Pleasant Distraction

A Sword of Ice

An Artistry in Scars

The West Isles

Tombs of Ice

A Claiming

The Price of Love is Agony

A Healer's Impulse

A Web of Lies

A Prince with Too Much Heart

The King's Bitch

Ashes and Bone

The Lies Fae Tell...

Promise

Selfish Mistakes

Like Sisters

A Thirst for Death

Consequences

Ice Statues and Shattered Iron

A Ghost of the Past

Snowfall and Blood

The Blood of a Prince

Shadows Given Form

The History of Castle Aileach

The Pain of Unrequited Love

The Invasion of Castle Aileach

Fallen King

King Regent

This is War

To Dana

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Aleera Anaya Ceres

This book is for all you queens out there.

Fix each other’s crowns.

Together, we can do great things.

Fae Elementals Glossary and Pronunciation Guide

Kingdoms, Cities, and Landmarks

Illyk: Eel-ick

Tuath: Two-ahh-th

Dana: Day-nuh

Vellm: Vey-mm

Ielwyn: Eel-win

Teg: Teh-gg

Orknie: Orc-knee

Lake Degara: Lake Dig-are-uh

The Arcana: Arc-ay-nuh

Lywyth River: Lee-with

Tir na Faie (also known as the Feylands): Tier Nuh Fey

Ley Line: Lay Line

Castle Aileach: Castle I-lick

Terrlyn: Tear-lynn

Porir: Pour-rear

Herria Mountains: Hair-ree-uh

Verdt: Veer-dt

Ojor: O-joar

Wyrshl: War-shell

Seirz: Seer-tz

People

Shula Azzarh: Shoe-luh Uh-zarrh

Piriguini: Peer-ee-gween-ee

Ryker Valda: Rye-curr Vahl-duh

Clay Valentino: Clay Valen-tee-no

Julius Darah: Jewel-ee-us Dare-uhh

Valerio Ashera: Vahl-eer-rio Ah-sheer-uh

Weylyn Xanth: Way-lynn Zanth

Uric Adriel Nova: You-ric Ay-dree-el No-vuh

Orna: Or-nuh

King Amos Ashera: Ay-mose Ah-sheer-uh

Emperor Robert Laurel: Robert Lore-rel

Mairin Valda: May-rin

Iona Wylde: I-oh-nuh Wild

George Apidae: George Eh-pihh-day

Temair Beston: Tim-mare Best-uhn

The Kurreen: The Core-Reen

Malika: Muh-lee-kuh

Veles Riel: Veh-less Real

Terms

Esses: (Pronounced like S. S.) A derogatory term for the Fae. Originally Seelie Scum, later shortened to S.S., then ‘Esses'.

Mana: (Pronounced Mah-nuh) The word to describe the Fae entity/deity/god. It is magic, nature, and the elements, as these are holy amongst their race.

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Trigger and Content Warnings

A Sword of Ice is an adult fantasy book that contains dark and graphic scenes such as:

Sexual themes

Misogyny

On-page animal abuse in the following chapters: 5. Something Cold and Familiar, 30. The West Isles

The sexual assault of a side character in Chapter 3. A Promise in an Alleyway.

Alcohol and drug consumption

Sexual harassment from a boss in the workplace

Graphic violence

Gore

Post traumatic stress and trauma

The death and loss of loved ones

Grief

Racism towards the Fae in a fantasy setting

The genocide of the Fae in a fantasy setting

Near-drowning in a main character’s past

If such material offends you, please do not pick up this book and/or proceed with caution. Remember, your mental health and well-being always comes first.

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A Sword of Ice is book two of six in the Fae Elementals series and does not end in a cliffhanger, but must be read in order. It is in 3rd person point of view, and while each book will follow the story of a different Elemental, there are still scenes and POVs from other characters, including the villains.

The Fall of the Fae

The sweet, tangy scent of mangos and coconut juice suffused the warm air. Saltwater lapped against the shoreline, the foam of the waves cooling the crisp, white sand beneath her bare feet. Meanwhile, the sun beat a relentless rhythm against Iona’s skin.

The muscles in her arms ached, her fingers were stiff, and her head jarred with each heavy thwack of her blade against the shell of a coconut.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

In a fierce succession, she split each one open so the juices fell into a sturdy wooden bucket beneath her work table. Only when it filled to the brim did she stop chopping to bend and hover over the milky white substance. The smell of the juice had always been a soothing balm to her senses; it reminded her of a soft blanket, and it let her know that her hard work was paying off.

More importantly, the sweet aroma of fruit drowned out the sharp odor of fish.

Iona placed her palms over the bucket, fingers spread wide, and let years of instinct take over. Magic spread through her veins, bright blue tendrils of it glowing against her ebony skin, streaking like stars just across the surface of her body and into the bucket.

The juice began to cool until it became slush; white like snow and just as cold. Smiling to herself, Iona grabbed a coconut half and filled it with ice, doing this for each one. Once they were all perfectly aligned on the table, she poured in mango juice.

As quickly as she made them, they sold out to Fae passing by on the beach, looking for something to soothe away the waves of heat.

Being the only ice Fae in the Jade Court was a lucrative business for her and her family.

Living at the edge of the Herria Mountains and not further inland meant they, like others in the area, were deemed to live simplistic lives, away from the nobles and their courts. Yet even if they weren’t awash with jewels and fine garments like the High Lords and Ladies, Iona’s family was rich in other ways, and they were just as integral to the Jade Court as the ruling noble family on this side of Tir na Faie.

The palace needed food, after all, and Iona Wylde came from a long line of fishermen and fruit exporters. Coconuts, mangos, bananas, and pineapples were hauled into carts by her father and brother and taken to city markets twice a month.

And fish.

Iona really hated fish.

So, instead of helping her brother and her father by tossing nets out on their little white boat, or her mother and sister by pulling fruit from palm trees, Iona did this.

She sold coconut and mango flavored ice to passing Fae.

Sometimes, she sold out within a few hours of starting, when the sun was high in the sky and the heat became almost unbearable. At the end of the day, when the last of the Fae walked away from her little stand, her brother and father rowed back in, and her mother and sister joined them on the beach, Iona would make five flavored ice bowls and sit with her family to watch the sun dip across the line of the sea.

It was a perfect life. Even with the current discord at the Ley Line and tensions between humans and Fae filling into a tighter, more confined space that was ready to burst at the seams. There was happiness at the Jade Court, because the Seelie King swore there was nothing to worry about.

And the King of the Fae would have no reason to lie.

Iona swiped the back of her hand against her forehead, smearing the dripping beads of sweat away. Silver curls plastered to her temples and the back of her neck; the heat was almost suffocating.

The courts in Tir na Faie lived by their own rules and their own sense of time. Each court was separated by magical barriers like the Ley Line that kept the humans and the Fae apart. But these barriers were different, keeping weather and seasons restricted within a single court.

And the Jade Court? It was always blistering.

Iona rubbed at the back of her neck and looked up to stare up at the expanse of bright blue sky. Clouds drifted towards her, billowing white that roiled slowly into darker shades of gray.

It took a moment, her brows furrowing and lips pressing into a tight line, before the stench hit her. Her bare feet scraped against sand and rock as she stumbled backwards, heart beating wildly up her throat, as if she could somehow run away from the approaching darkness.

Living so long near the sea had given Iona quite a good idea what storm clouds looked like. She knew hurricanes, tsunamis, thunderstorms. She’d lived them all, and this was nothing of the sort.

Ash rained down across a once blue sky and coated her slick skin, clinging to sweat and the sticky sweet juices of fruit. Fingers sliding against her arms, she tried to swipe it off, but every space she cleaned only stained gray again.

What—

Her skin began to tingle like the sensation of bugs crawling over her body, of spiders digging sharp, unforgiving fangs into her skin. It burned like fire. Like acid. And when she inhaled it into her lungs, she choked.

Iona!

She whirled at the sound of her name being shouted to find her mother and sister stumbling down the slope of sand. Their feet tripped them up, and in their attempt to steady one another, they both came crashing down in a tangle of limbs against the ground.

Iona ran to them, dropping to her knees in time to rub circles across her mother’s back as she coughed into her palm. When she pulled away, it was stained with blood.

Ashwood, her mother rasped, pushing aside the long braids from curtaining her face, smearing blood against herself in the process.

Iona curled her fingers into her palms, shooting a look to her sister. If there was ashwood burning across the skies that could mean only one thing.

The humans had crossed the Ley Line.

The ground shook as the realization struck them. Air that only moments before had flittered with the warm spray of salt was now tainted with something denser, foreign, vile. Yet recognizable just the same.

Iron and ash.

And then Iona’s father and brother were there, grasping tightly at their oars, wearing the colors of the Jade Court; greens and browns and whites, like the ocean along the horizon and the sand at their feet.

They weren’t warriors, and yet they breathed the unbridled violence of an entire army.

Iona watched with detached emotions. Her heart pounding, her palms sweating, her magic splintering inside her veins like glass meaning to crack. Her father bent to her mother’s level and whispered low in her ear.

There was a sort of sorrow at watching them together right then. At the way his silver hair brushed against her darker braids as he leaned in for a kiss goodbye. Their final kiss, before he ran off with fishermen and farmers to push the humans back just enough until the Fae armies arrived. A tan hand cupped an ebony face and pulled it into a fierce kiss that would be burned into Iona’s mind forever.

There were many moments of that day she would remember forever; she just didn’t realize it until it was too late. When she looked back, she would recall small details, like the bronze shade of her brother’s hand in her darker one as he gripped her tightly in a final farewell. The flash of fear in her sister’s eyes as she wrapped her arms around the two protective males of their family and whispered a prayer to Mana. The blood smearing her mother’s hand. The sound of wet coughing. The taste of ashwood on her leaden tongue.

She recalled the bigger details, too. Details that chased her in her nightmares once it was all said and done.

The screams of the dying. The terror of waiting with the women when she wanted nothing more than to fight. The soldiers, tearing through homes and conquering. Iron and blood, fire and ash.

They’d been doomed from the start.

When Iona finally picked up a sword and fought back, she didn’t last either. She fell to the sand on her back, staring up at the ever-blackening sky as ashwood drifted across Tir na Faie, gasping in breaths that wouldn’t come.

She’d woken sometime later. Blood and blisters coating her body, gasping in agony as she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled against bodies lying in the sand. The bodies of her family, of her blood. Sorrow was a heavy thing in her chest as she realized she was the last. They’d left no survivors.

It took ninety-eight years since the discord started for the humans to best the Fae. Ninety-eight years for them to travel through Herria Mountains and catch the Jade Court unaware.

They came with their iron and their ashwood.

And they watched the Fae fall.

Dirty Fae Secret

102 years later...

Dreams of icy waves pulling her to her death kept Iona tossing all night. Memories of another time. Of war and bloodshed, of the screaming song of battle and unrelenting pain. Of loss and fallen courts, and the final battle that pushed her face-first into the vicious hands of an ocean that would see her dead.

She hadn’t died with the rest of the Resistance in those early years of the war. Mana had been forgiving, had given her a second chance at life.

A broken, fucked up life.

But life just the same.

One she was determined to live. She’d decided that the moment the ocean spit her out on the shores of human lands. Grains of sand, ice, and rock dug into her cold, shivering skin. A cold she’d never felt before invaded her senses, pressed down deep to her bones, making her teeth clatter together in hard movements that jarred her skull.

But Iona pushed herself up on her knuckles, to her knees, and finally, to her feet. Her legs had threatened to buckle beneath her, but she planted her heels firmly in the ground and looked at her surroundings.

She’d come from courts of saturated skies and sparkling water. Of lush, vibrant jungles bursting in blooms of exotic colors and scents. Of relentless, beating arms of the sun enveloping warm skin. Of sea glass protruding from the shoreline, winking against the rays of light, and of selkies and merfolk breaching the waves to sing their songs.

Skies in white and gray greeted her when she looked up. Smog threatened to choke her lungs, laced through the frosty air with flecks of iron that chipped from surrounding buildings. The waters were black, the shores gray, and the water tasted like putrid fish against her lips.

She’d always hated fish.

Iona had landed in the kingdom of Teg that day. In the city of Porir just along the coast, where she’d been ever since. She’d built her life among humans, rented a cheap room in one of the few wooden buildings left in Illyk along with other illegal Fae immigrants who hid from the emperor’s soldiers.

It was in Teg where she dreamt of her death every night. Where nightmares suffocated her and filled her with images of her family lying in blood and sand, ash coating their still bodies. Every night her legs tangled against her old, torn sheet as she struggled to breathe until she realized where she was.

Tonight was just another one of those nights. Where her nails dug through the skin at her throat, where her lungs choked on imaginary water that no longer took up residence in her body. She woke up to tears drying a sticky pathway down her warm cheeks, her family’s names on her lips, memories burning like painted photographs behind her eyelids.

Heart pounding against her chest, Iona stared up at the splintering ceiling of her room, counting the lines spider webbing across the rotting wood. The routine was the same every night. Focusing her breaths, counting lines she already had memorized. She could close her eyes and trace the pattern against her bedding with exact precision a thousand times just to calm her racing heart.

When the anxiety finally ebbed, Iona opened her eyes and let loose a soft breath and with it, the tiniest sliver of magic, causing a cold cloud to puff in front of her face. Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she stretched her arms over her head with a yawn. It was early; even without windows she could tell. It was in the sounds that filtered through the walls and front door.

Her neighbors were up, banging through their own rooms with stomping footsteps and shouted words.

Just another day in paradise.

Kicking the sheet from her legs, Iona got up to begin her day. She cleaned her teeth after a quick breakfast of bread and fruit, then wiped her body down with a damp rag. Afterwards, she slipped into her work uniform; an ugly pant jumpsuit in gray tones, and looked into the only mirror she owned. A broken fragment that she’d fished out of the garbage on a side street.

Her tight, silver-white curls surrounded her head in a cloud, and she rearranged them as best as she could, pulling them down and over the tips of her pointed ears.

She’d seen Fae surgically alter the tips, hiding the evidence of their heritage to blend in with the humans of Illyk. Many of her neighbors in the building had done so, while others, like Iona, couldn’t seem to let go of that part of their pasts.

Sometimes, hiding what she was felt futile. If only because Teg was one of the most corrupt kingdoms in Illyk. Fae migrated here in abundance and hid in the slummiest parts of Porir. It was the poorest city, overrun with old buildings and rusted iron that had seen better days. Soldiers patrolled the streets with death and emptiness in their eyes. They passed by Fae every day, accepted bribes, money, and favors in exchange for their silence.

As long as the guards of Porir were kept happy, the Emperor of Illyk would not find out about them.

It was why Iona hadn’t altered her ears. It was why she hadn’t left this terrible kingdom. Even being in a cold, icy wasteland of a city where poverty overrun it like shadows snuffing out the light, it was better than death. It was better to be a dirty little secret of Illyk than being hauled into the infamous camps to be burned alive for what she was. Or worse, as it were.

This was her home now.

Tir na Faie was gone.

Sighing at the melancholy turn of her thoughts, Iona grabbed a thick fur coat and pulled it on before stepping out of her room. When she’d first rented the place, they’d called them apartments, but they weren’t big enough to even be considered that.

Each room measured at about ten by ten feet, with a rusted, indoor toilet and a small tub that released murky water. In the grand scheme of things, a shitty room was a luxury in this fucked up world she was now in, so she didn’t complain.

Even if she hated it.

The stench of musk, wood, and burning herbs assaulted her nostrils as she stepped out into the hall, closing her door behind her. She caught sight of one of her neighbors crouching against his front door, legs splayed out on the floor, a joint with dried hallucinogen herbs between his fingers, the tip burning.

Hey, Rey. Iona tilted her head up in a nod.

Afternoon, pretty thing. His accent curled with each puff of smoke, lazy and unfeeling. It was the cadence of the Unseelie, altered over time, but recognizable to Iona just the same. It was the pitch in his tone, the way every word danced from his tongue to a wild beat.

It’s morning, Rey.

Hmm. Is it? His head thunked against his unstable door.

She wasn’t surprised he didn’t know what day it was, since he’d been in that same exact position the previous night.

The Unseelie Fae was clad in tattered, drab clothing, square patches barely hanging on by meager threads. His jacket was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders that smelt stale like the very smoke he inhaled. Long hair tied behind his head, greasy strands touching his cheeks.

His back was hunched slightly to accommodate his paper-thin wings; they trailed against the ground like a thin, old carpet. Moth-like in appearance, they sported holes and tears, revealing thin bone and tendon underneath.

On your way to work? he asked. His voice was gravely, like crunching rocks beneath shoes, and the sound matched his lazy disposition.

Unfortunately.

He pulled the joint away from his mouth and smirked. His parchment-colored skin looked paler than usual, shadows marring his eyelids, dark eyes bloodshot. Tell Petey I said hi.

Iona scoffed at the sarcasm in his voice. Tell Belinda I said hi.

Her retort had him snorting and pressing the joint back to his lips, taking in a drag. She kicked me out last night. Won’t open the fuckin’ door. He thunked his head against it again. I got nowhere else to be.

She had the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, but she curled her nails into her palms instead. Hope she doesn’t leave you out here too long. Take care, Rey. And good luck.

He didn’t reply, but he acknowledged her words with a flick of ashes against the floor.

Her teeth ground together, and she forced herself to turn away. Dumbass was going to catch the entire building on fire one day with his carelessness. A part of her relished in the idea of watching this shit-stain burn. The more logical, less bitter part realized how stupid that was. Regardless of how she felt, this was her home now. Like it was home to others.

Burning the place to the ground would definitely not be such a good idea.

Her booted feet hit the stairs leisurely, stepping out to the cold, iron clad streets.

She could feel its poison in the air, but the snow overpowered it. She was so used to the iron by now that she was sure she would die at the age of three hundred, instead of living the long lifespan she was meant to.

Some Fae could live up to be five thousand years old. Her father had been eight-hundred. Her mother nine-hundred and fifty-two. But longer lifespans had been before the fall of Tir na Faie. Before they’d been forced to the human lands, where the iron in the air branded death into their lungs.

Iona remembered those first few months. She’d coughed blood at least twice every week until her system grew used to the poison.

It was the way of things.

Mithridatism, it was called. Named after an ancient, human king, it was the act of slowly ingesting non-lethal amounts of poison to accustom the body. Yet it did not make the Fae immune. If anything, it only killed them slowly. An already dying race suffering with iron and ashwood in their bodies. As if they hadn’t suffered enough already. As if they weren’t suffering enough already.

Iona felt good just to be alive, but sometimes she wondered if others felt that way or if she was just too optimistic that things could still change.

She’d lived through dark times in Porir and had witnessed those who suffered even darker circumstances. She’d lived every day to watch the lights diminish from their eyes. They may have been alive, but they were still Porir’s dirty little secrets, trading sex and slivers of their souls to survive another day.

That’s what it was. Survival, not life.

And yet, despite all the darkness in the world, Iona still believed in Mana and in the hope that someday, she would live again.

They would all live again.

Porir City Zoo

The winding roads of the city were laced with ice and frost. Snow slowly trailed from the sky, coating the ground in a thin, ashy layer. Winter was here, and in only a few days, Porir would be knee-deep in the cold.

Winter was always the harshest month, though Iona was sure winters in Teg could never compare to the winters in the northern kingdoms like Ielwyn and Vellm. It was still cold, just the same.

The soles of her boots created enough friction to keep her upright instead of sending her sprawling against the ground. It was one of the first things she learned when she came to Porir: invest in good shoes.

The city was quiet this early in the morning, save for the whistling wind and the occasional footfalls as the citizens made their early morning commute. Iona’s ears perked up from beneath her hair, eyes scanning every inch of the street. Besides being known to harbor Fae, Porir also harbored criminals of all kinds, and one could never be too careful.

Catching sight of a soldier, Iona tensed on instinct. Leather and steel armor covered his body, making him look bulky, and an iron sword gleamed at his hip as he patrolled the streets. There was a wobbly swagger to his step that let her know he was drunk, or high on the street drugs the criminals here sold like she used to sell flavored ice.

Iona didn’t allow herself to relax until she passed him without incident. She recognized him as one of the soldiers who went into her building to collect debts in exchange for silence, and though she’d already paid her tithe, she was nervous. The soldiers could decide at any time that they didn’t want their meager favors and could turn them all in. Every day was like living on the edge of your seat, worse yet, at the end of the chopping block and waiting for the blade to drop.

She walked a few more blocks as the sun rose overhead, illuminating the city in soft tones of white, gray, and black. Industrialized businesses rose up, smoke pluming from towers to blacken the sky. Zigzagging through streets and broken down, tattered buildings, Iona finally made it to the other side of the city, closer to the coast and to her job.

The Porir City Zoo.

The building spread out in a circular shape across the terrain, with tall, iron fences and rusty tin walls. Built like a prison, with dozens of side-by-side cages and glass domes that held animals both common and rare.

Circling the building to the back entrance for employees, she procured her thick iron key. It singed her fingertips every time she touched it, leaving behind the imprint of light scars against her skin. She slipped it into the lock, opened the gate, and pushed her way inside.

The myriad of smells were overwhelming to her sensitive senses. Shit, piss, hay, and fish mingled with iron and steel. She should have been used to them by now, but she gagged every time they collided through her nostrils.

Despite the odors, Iona was just glad to have stable work, something she’d fretted about when she’d arrived. It would have been hard to blend in as a human without a job or a place to stay. She was lucky she’d gotten hired at the zoo. A lot of places required thorough checks to ensure humanity, which left a lot of Fae either jobless or dead.

Some of the Fae in her building were turning tricks, becoming prostitutes, for the soldiers and homeowners. It meant the humans could use them whenever and wherever the need struck them. To keep themselves safe, to have a home.

Things could have been much worse for Iona. She was lucky to have landed here instead of in a lonely soldier’s bed.

It wasn’t the best work anymore, but it was honest and rewarding, if a little sad.

She made her way straight to Petey’s office to let him know she’d arrived. The owner of Porir City Zoo liked to dock pay and threaten letters to the emperor if she was late. The asshole.

Rapping once on his door, she pushed it open and found him sitting behind his desk, a bottle of ale in front of him. As per usual. She tried not to sneer at him like she really wanted to.

Morning, Petey, she greeted in a bored tone.

He swallowed back the contents in his bottle and belched loudly. Petey reeked of piss, ale, and week-old food. Being in close proximity to his stench was worse than the animals housed behind cages.

Iona, just the Fae I wanted to see.

She didn’t react to the malice in his tone but felt it as easily as if he’d pressed a blade to her throat. Petey liked to remind her who had the upper hand by making veiled threats about her heritage. Even just mentioning what she was aloud was laced with wicked promise of perdition.

In his late fifties, he had bald patches along his scalp and wisps of stringy, dark hair. His skin was tough and flushed pink, his eyes beady, with a gut that hung over the edge of his too tight pants.

She never would have stepped foot in the zoo looking for a job if it had been Petey in charge of the place at the time. No. It was his father whom she owed her life to.

Henry was a sweet, human man with a strong constitution and warm smile. He’d been twenty-two when they’d met; Iona had been seventy-seven. Taking a single look at the tips of her ears, Henry had known what she was and had taken her in anyway. He’d given her a job at his family-owned zoo, along with a wage that would pay enough for her rent and food.

He’d been kind, had treated her like he would a friend. She’d watched him grow old, get married, have children. His skin shriveled before her eyes until he was no longer the vibrant youth he had been. As he aged and she didn’t, he eventually treated her like a daughter, as if she wasn’t older than him.

He’d cared about the zoo, too.

There had been a time when it had been a thriving place, when the animals had been healthy instead of the malnourished skin and bones they were now.

Iona had been heartbroken when he’d died and pissed when Petey had driven his father’s legacy into the ground. After his father perished at the age of ninety, Petey had inherited everything. That meant he’d inherited Iona and her secret.

And he used it against her every chance he got.

She would have left. She’d wanted to leave when the only person tying her to the city was gone. It hadn’t been that simple of a task. Not when she’d required funds to do so and Petey had cut her pay, leaving her feeling like she was trapped in a suffocating place, her heart filled with both uncertainty and hope. And all the while, she’d waited for a sign from Mana. For a hint that it was time to leave this life behind and do what she felt, deep in her gut, she was meant to do.

But there’d been no sign, and so in Porir she stayed.

What’s up, Petey? She stepped deeper into the room, stopping in front of his desk. Her arms crossed against her chest and she made an attempt to hold her breath to not inhale his scent.

After you finish your rounds, I’m gonna need you to clean out the empty glass dome, the one with the pool.

That spot had been vacant for years. The last animal they had enclosed in there had been a black bear before it had been rehomed.

Iona had been sad to see the creature go, but a lot of times the animals at the zoo were shipped off to other places that could better care for them. The unwanted, less rare animals were kept here. It was worse now, because they were trapped, starving, without hope.

Like her own kind, in a way.

For what? she asked.

His expression shuddered for a second before baring the anger underneath. It transformed into a leer that she recognized all too well. Petey always looked at her lecherously, but because he knew she was physically stronger than him, he never touched, and so she pretended not to notice. He was no danger to her in that aspect. No, the most perilous thing about him were his threats and his arbitrary rage.

I’m the boss here. I don’t see why you’re questionin’ me.

Just wondering, Petey. I’m not questioning your authority. Although, she really thought someone should.

He smiled, though, seeming satisfied with that answer. Got a new animal comin’ in. Need it ready for tomorrow.

They hadn’t had new animals in years. Not since his father died and Petey ruined his pride and joy.

Really…

He must have heard the skepticism in her voice because he glared, slamming his fist down on the surface of his table. Why the fuck are you questioning me, Esses scum?

A lightning flash of rage struck down her spine at the term. It was a derogatory word invented by the humans to describe the Fae. Originally, the words had been Seelie Scum, shortened to S.S. and eventually, Esses.

Iona should have been used to that, too. Mana knew the soldiers that came to collect each month had called her worse, yet it still made her grind her teeth, made her magic respond. It rushed through her blood, banging against the surface of her consciousness as it attempted to get out. It felt a lot like anxiety did in those first few moments after she opened her eyes in the mornings. Shaking fingers, pounding heart, troubled breathing.

She traced the image of her splintered ceiling against her pant leg, shoving her magic aside and relaxing her posture, even as Petey spewed more venom.

You’re fucking lucky you still have a job after my father died. I could turn you into the fucking soldiers. I could send a letter straight to the fucking Emperor of Illyk. Is that what you want?

The conquering Emperor of Illyk, otherwise known as the biggest Fae hater in the empire. It was his fault she was hiding in the first place and had been for the past seventy-five years. All the rumors she’d heard of him were bathed in blood and cruelty and suspicion. Fae parts were mounted above his throne, a testament to all he’d accomplished, while he still actively sent his soldiers looking for Fae to trap them in his iron camps.

She knew very well what the emperor was capable of. She’d been there on the one hundred and twenty fifth year of the human-Fae discord. When his armies had finally taken possession of the Seelie Court and had destroyed the royals, along with the Fae Resistance she’d been a part of.

You know it’s not, Petey, she replied tightly.

"You’re lucky you have an actual job. You should be thankful I let you shovel shit. Would you rather suck my cock? Huh? He reached beneath his desk and she heard the rustle of his clothing. Is this what you want, huh?"

No. Humiliation heated her cheeks, but she kept her expression unreadable while her fingers thrummed rapidly against her thighs. She was Fae. She had her pride, and the old, violent part of her urged her to reach out and crush his head between her hands. With her strength, she could do it within a few minutes. But she didn’t live in the same world where the Resistance had her back, where she was in Tir na Faie. Where she could openly use her magic. Because even though the humans knew what she was, it still didn’t mean she could be what she was.

Then get the fuck out and go do what you’re told.

Without a sarcastic rebuttal, she turned and walked out of his office, careful not to slam his door or give a hint of her aggravation.

A part of her knew the only reason he was being a dick was because she’d been equally bad when he started growing up to be an ass. She’d been snarky and rude, if only because she hated his leering gaze, his comments, and the way he treated his own father.

He was a prick, and that hadn’t changed. Now he was just a prick who controlled her future, so she bit her tongue and just did what he told her to do. Even if doing it killed a little bit of her soul inside. Even if obeying him felt like a betrayal to her very pride.

Sometimes, she just didn’t have a choice.

As she made her way to gather her supplies to begin working, her anxiety eased in bits and pieces, and her magic settled, burrowing deep in her chest. It would come out again, just like it always did, but she was the master of her emotions, not the other way around.

Iona tilted her head up to the sky. Her nose twitched with